“Even I am, Avena,” Dualayn said. “I hope that I can earn your forgiveness.”
Avena sighed. “Let’s continue on. We only have so much food.”
She shifted her pack on her back, reminded of its weight, then she went forward. She pushed the door farther open with her earthen gauntlet with ease. Her shoulder joint ached from the increased strain.
Dualayn tied a cloth to the door as she peered around inside. Decay had ravished the room. It looked like water had once flowed through here, staining the floors with a waving pattern of grime covered in a growing layer of dust. A pile of furniture lay piled against an opening, more bones wrapped up in the remains along with strangely shaped crystals covered in the tarnish of ages. They were narrow and long, twisted in the same manner of the Recorder and made of the same two stones.
They cleared the rubble out of the way, throwing wood to the side. Many pieces broke apart. Strange worms burst out of one, writhing and wiggling in the sodden pulp. Avena grimaced. Sweat trickled down her face. Ōbhin heaved a large plank to the side, throwing it over the pile. It snapped in half with a loud clatter. Something scurried from the wreckage.
She hated the sounds. As they penetrated deeper into the building, she could hear creaking above. Groaning protests of stone grinding on stone. Fine dust sifted down from the ceiling, landing on her face. Her skin itched. She felt like a thousand centipedes crawled over her body, their little legs prickling her.
They moved down a hallway with doors leading off into small rooms. In one, a half-collapsed bed held a nearly intact skeleton draped in cobwebs. Bony arms clutched something which had long decayed away to spindly bones. Things slithered just out of sight. Insects and spiders and other nasty things fled their light. Bones littered the hallways or thrust out of the buckled doorway of the apartments they moved through. Skulls grinned at them from amid piles of rot and filth. A large pool of water flooded one room, the floor sagging and buckling from the weight. The water rippled as something wormed beneath the surface.
They came to a metal door at the end of the hallway after several bends and twists. The ceiling groaned over their heads. Long shafts of diamonds were inserted into the metal frames. Each jewel had a wire running through them lengthwise, the ends corroded and damaged.
Dualayn muttered as he pried one from the ceiling, turning it in his hand while Ōbhin wrenched at the door. It was painted entirely black and pitted in places. He threw his shoulder into it. Metal resounded. The door held.
“Come on,” he grunted and slammed his shoulder into it again.
“Frame’s buckled,” said Dualayn, his voice distant. “It’s seized the door in place.” Then he let out a groan of awe. “To be able to grow crystals. They created this with the wire running through it. I imagine this must shine with a remarkable amount of light. And look at the shape, designated to spread it over a wider area, I suppose.”
“Does that matter?” Avena asked, irritation bubbling through her fear.
A distant moan reverberated from above, rocks shifting. The top of this building had collapsed. The walls weren’t straight. Many were bowed in places, the ceiling sagging. The weight of the forest above pressed down on them.
“Let me try,” Avena said after Ōbhin’s third shoulder slam.
He glanced at her earth gauntlet and stepped aside. She pressed her hand against the exit, fingers spread wide. The emeralds shone across the dull surface of the door. In spots, Ōbhin’s impacts had smudged the patina, revealing a silvery-gray metal beneath.
She pushed. Her shoulder joint ached from the strain, not enhanced by the glove’s strength. Only her arm has increased power. Her boots slid on the filthy floor. The metal groaned. She gritted her teeth, facial muscles tensing. Sweat broke across her face. Stones moaned above.
“Wot’s that?” Bran asked, his voice squeaky with fear.
“Just the earth settling,” Dajouth said. “It’s fine. Happens underground. Or in buildings. I wouldn’t worry.”
“No, those thuds. They sounded like footsteps.”
“What would be walkin’ down here?” asked Fingers. “Everything’s dead.”
“Rats ain’t,” Dajouth said. “And I’ve seen some big spiders.”
“Saw a roach the size of my hand,” Bran said.
Avena shivered. She hated disgusting roaches. Brown bodies crawling through dark spaces, surprising you when opening cabinets with their flat bodies and beady eyes. She pressed harder on the door, the throbbing in her shoulder joint increasing.
“It’s not budging,” Ōbhin said.
“Maybe we can backtrack and check out the rooms,” Fingers said. “They gotta have windows. Someone of ‘em might lead somewhere.”
Ōbhin drew his sword. Emerald flared bright from it. Avena gasped and stepped back. He swung, the humming pitch of his blade rising and falling. He cut through the door in four quick, practiced slashes. The lines appeared, flakes of corrosion falling away from his slices. The metal stayed lodged in place.
Until he kicked it.
The large section he’d cut out popped through and crashed to the floor on the other side. The clang reverberated around. Avena winced at the clatter, half-expecting the ceiling to collapse on them. Ōbhin muttered beneath his breath about being an idiot.
Nothing caved in on them. Stress relaxing, she raised her diamond lantern and peered through the dark portal. A stench rippled out, putrid, worse than the smell of offal from an abattoir.
“Elohm’s Colours,” cursed Fingers.
Avena’s eyes stung from the strength of the rot. She breathed through her mouth and tasted the foul aroma. It clung to her tongue. Dajouth spat beside her. Dualayn groaned and clapped a hand over his mouth and nose.
Ōbhin stepped through the opening he cut and cursed
